


be my moonlight

by Medie



Category: Terminator, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skynet has stolen almost everything, some things she just won't let it have</p>
            </blockquote>





	be my moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> for [](http://liminalliz.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**liminalliz**](http://liminalliz.dreamwidth.org/) who wanted a kate drabble (catching up on old drabble prompts I am) and, somehow, this turned into Kate in the Reese verse as presented by the s2 SCC finale

She misses moonlight.

It's a mistake only the stupid or insane make, thinking the machines can't find them at night, everyone else learned quick. Sunlight is safe. As safe as anything gets anymore anyway.

You move around at night; you die.

Daylight, at least, promises some protection. Sunlight glinting off metal, California heat making infrared useless, it's not much of a chance, but it's _a_ chance.

You move in the day. You hunker down at night. Kate misses the moonlight. Misses being able to walk in the night, watching satellites and stars moving overhead and dream.

No dreams there now. Just nightmares.

"Doc," someone says, a soft murmur, and she rolls over in the night. Allison's crouching beside her, worry and apprehension coating her face in companion to the ever present grime.

Kate misses showers too.

She doesn't yawn. She wasn't sleeping, no point in pretending she was, she hasn't slept a full night since J-Day. "Who?" she asks, already reaching for her shoes.

"Barnes," Allison responds. "A 600."

Kate thinks of the hulking machines, shudders once, and picks up her bag. There's not much in it, never is, but she likes the weight of it in her hand. Makes her feel like there's something more to this. More than a half-empty promise that never came to be.

She rolls to her feet, letting the curtain fall shut behind her. It's not much privacy, more than just supplies in short supply anymore, but she knows that's not the point. It's all they can offer and, now, the thought really is all that counts.

"What happened?" she finally asks, following Allison through the tunnels, ducking and weaving past the others under their care.

"Found a clinic downtown," Allison says. "We needed the supplies."

Kate groans. "It was a trap." Skynet is learning. "I'm going to _kill_ him." She looks at the ceiling and, even in the dim light, there's no pretending. She hates the tunnels. Hates the pressure and the weight that sits on them at all times. Can't forget the dirt and weight being held back by concrete. Concrete subject to regular barrages of Skynet's arsenal.

She hates a lot these days.

"Yeah," Allison shrugs. "We still needed them." She looks sharply at the bag in Kate's hand. They all know the bag's just for show. "It was worth it."

"Ask me that tomorrow," Kate says, brushing past her into the alcove where Barnes is waiting. She shoulders through the waiting Reese brothers without comment and drops down by her patient's side. She bites back an oath when she eases back the bandage to sees the shoulder wound, grime and blood mixed in equal parts on the cloth.

"Promise, Doc," Barnes breathes, "Not as bad as it looks."

Kate smiles. "Let me be the judge of that, okay?" She's not harsh with them. Not when they're like this. Not even if they deserve it. She knows what they need from her. That's not it.

"Fine by me," he says, closing his eyes. "Just as long as I can still play the piano."

She huffs a laugh. "We don't have a piano."

"Aw shit, man," Barnes complains. "Fucking Skynet blew up the baby grand?" He shakes his head. "Nothing's sacred anymore."

Kate holds out a hand, looking up at Kyle. It's Derek who crouches down with the pot of water in hand. It's full, steaming, and there's a faint scrap of cloth draped over his arm. She wants to scowl and glare, accuse them of being stupid, but he stares back silent and steady and all she can do is sigh.

"Thank you," she murmurs, taking the cloth and dipping it in the water.

"We got the stuff," he reports.

She nods, looking at Barnes as she cleans the wound. It's not much help, but she keeps cleaning until the water in the pot is a muddy red and hopes for the best. A dash of alcohol, a ton of prayer, and then she's stitching.

Barnes doesn't flinch, doesn't cry out, just stares up at the ceiling. No one cries. No one wastes the water.

"Almost done," she says, her stomach twisting with each jab of the needle through flesh. "Hang on."

Barnes turns his head, looking at her, and tries to smile. "Take your time, Doc," he says. "Know what they say about a second with a pretty lady -- "

She snorts. She hasn't been pretty in years. A tube of lipstick would be enough to make her cry. "Careful, Sergeant," she warns. "I think you're becoming delirious."

"Nah," he assures. "Never saw anything so clear."

Ducking her head, Kate keeps working.

When she's done, Allison takes Derek's place beside her and smiles. "I'll sit with him."

"He needs to _rest_," Kate instructs, getting up.

"Got it," Allison looks at Barnes. "He moves, I can shoot him?"

"Twice if he needs it," Kate says. "Just save the bullet. I've got plans for it." The comment's directed at Kyle and Derek both. Picking up her bag, she leaves Allison sitting at Barnes' side and ducks out into the tunnel.

"Don't say it," she warns, feeling Derek come up behind her.

"Don't give me orders," he says. "You know we had to -- "

"Walk into a trap eyes open and a 'shoot my human ass' sign on your forehead? Of course you did, Derek," she snaps, picking up speed. No one crosses her path. She's supposed to be their doctor, their Mother Theresa, Virgin Mother, Mary Magdalene, she's whoever they need her to be when they need her to be it, but not always and not now. Now she's too angry to care. Too caught up by the image of Kyle and Derek leading their team into a T600's sights. "It's how you and Kyle do everything."

She stops, ducking into a tunnel, and pressing herself against the wall. She's shaking. Fear tying her muscles into knots and she _hates_ this. Hates that she's the one they look at. Everyone else looks at them. Kyle and Derek look at her.

Derek moves in front of her, staring again, and she balls up a fist. "I hate you," she hisses. "I hate you both."

He nods. "I know."

She swings at him; he lets her. She pulls it at the last second, not able to let herself hurt him, and it lands useless against his chest. Her bag drops to the floor and she pushes at him. Tears are burning their way down her cheeks and she doesn't even know why she's crying. Barnes is fine. They're fine. Everything --

Everything is completely fucked up. Everything is _wrong_ and she can't fix it. The world is crumbling around them, a slow, inevitable crumble into obscurity.

She _hates_ this.

Derek lets her rage, hit, takes it all without comment. When she's burned herself out, when all she has left is the emptiness and the burning, tired eyes, she looks at him. "I miss cookie dough."

He nods, somber. "Barbecue wings...and cookie dough."

Kate lets him pull her close. She doesn't pretend it's because he needs it, though he does, this time, she's the one that needs it more. "Promise you'll get me some?"

He laughs against her neck, the puff of breath making her shiver. "Sure, just as soon as I find a time machine."

"Get on that," she says.

"Yes ma'am," he says, fingers light on her body. It's tempting, too tempting, to let herself imagine.

She's missed this too.

"Kate," Derek says, her name a prayer on his lips. Kate clings closer, answering the plea in rasp of his voice, letting herself give something she never thought she would. She knows all she has to do is ask. He'd give her this and more. He'd be her moonlight if only she'd ask. She sees the promise of it in every look and hears it in every catch of his voice.

She doesn't ask.

Skynet can't steal what she won't let herself have.


End file.
